Switched
by Kuyuchii
Summary: Hit by one of England's spells, Romano switches places with his younger self. While he is forced to join Antonio's crew, will be able to hide his true identity from the captain? And will he just perhaps find himself falling for him? And just what will happen when the Bad Touch Trio attempt to look after the young Italian? Rated T for Romano's potty mouth.


**Hai, kuyuchii here! sorry it's been so long since I've uploaded anything, but I've had a hideous case of writer's block xD**

**I should be updating my other stories, I know _ but I got this plotbunny a few days ago and I've wanted to write some hetalia for ages... soooo... xD**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters, as much as I wish I did.**

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Romano loathed the world meetings. They were all so fucking _pointless. _Nobody _ever_ brought up anything remotely important, and most of the 3 hour sessions were spent with endless bickering, mainly due to the fact that _every_ fucking nation seemed to have some deep family problem. Especially England and America of course, and because he had had to clear up some 'business', Romano had ended up in the seat between the two. Cursing to every god knew, he smacked his forehead against the table. The two English-speaking nations were really at each other's fucking throats today; even he was almost impressed at the colourful insults flying. Almost. Groaning, the southern Italian tilted his head to look down the table at the precise moment when Denmark decided to shove his fucking tongue down Norway's throat. It was a fucking _meeting_, not a make-out session! The looks his fratello gave that potato bastard were fucking bad enough as it was! Sitting up swiftly with an almost feral growl, Romano was fucking _desperate _to tell the Nordic bastards where they could stuff their public displays of affection. But before he could let loose on one of his rants, he was suddenly overcome by a tingling sensation. It started as a tickling feeling, but quite quickly became painful and Romano doubled over in pain.

"Fucking-"

He blacked out.

* * *

This meeting was going worse than usual, and that was saying something. America and England were really going at it, Denmark and Norway were making out on the table (much to Iceland's displeasure and shame), France was attempting (and succeeding, contrary to the laws of physics) to grope everyone's ass through the chairs, and Prussia had apparently succeeded in sticking Germany's hands to the table with superglue. Even Spain was finding it hard to be his jolly self, even though he had to admit that what Prussia and France was doing was pretty funny. He felt sorry for his Roma, having to sit between the two warring nations. He had planned to save a seat for his former henchman, but Bella had asked if she could sit there, and he couldn't say no to her. Especially with her brother glaring daggers at him from his seat, daring him to refuse. Spain chuckled as he noticed that England was by now in full faerie mode; toga, wings, wand and all. Leaning back in his chair, Spain watched with amusement as America rolled on the floor laughing and the indignation in England's face grew, if that was possible. England flicked his wand, and a beam of light flowed from the tip- just in time to hit the growling southern Italian full in the face as he sat up. Spain looked on in shock as Roma doubled over, his face scrunched up in pain.

"Fucking-"

Suddenly, Romano disappeared.

"ROMA!"

"FRATELLO!"

Spain and Italy stood up from their seats in horror.

"Bring him back, right now!"

Spain's voice sounded as if he couldn't decide whether to throttle England or start hyperventilating.

"Ahem. Listen, if I could bring him back, I would. I was aiming for the Yankee tosser-" "Hey!" "-as you know. But I'm afraid that spell is irreversible. He will return, of course," he added hastily upon seeing Spain's face, "I just can't promise when."

England smiled awkwardly.

"But in the meantime, you'll have your hands full looking after something- or rather, some_one_ else."

Carefully, England reached down to Romano's unoccupied seat, down to the section concealed by the edge of the table, and pulled out a bundle of pink and white cloth. Peering closer, Spain noted that it appeared to be snoring softly.

"Well, go on then! Take him!"

England was sounding a lot less awkward, and a lot more annoyed.

Confused as to what it actually _was, _Spain held out his arms, and quickly deposited the bundle on the table upon receiving it as he, and the rest of the nations at the table, leant in to have a better look.

"Veh~ what is it?"

"No sé." Antonio's scrutinizing gaze intensified.

"I don't know either, mon petit l'Italie~" France sounded baffled.

"Kesesesesese~ the awesome me has an idea!"

And before anyone could stop him, Prussia reached over and poked it. Hard.

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**So that was the first chapter! Or technically a prologue, as I'm hoping to make the other chapters longer. Please review, constructive criticism and feedback is what I live for! xD**

**Oh, and try to guess what's in the bundle! I'm pretty sure it's reeeeally obvious, but still xP**

**Hasta la pasta~!**

**~Kuyuchii xx**


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